by Sophie Moss
“But it’s gone now?”
“As far as I know,” Tara answered. “There was nothing left of the cottage but ash when we left.”
ON THE ROCKY shores of a deserted island, a few kilometers south of Seal Island, Moira held the book in her hands. The charred pages crinkled and faded to ash as the wind teased the corners of the ancient spell book. Her tears fell into the sea and steam rose up from the drops as they hit the surface.
Glenna was against her. Her daughter—her own flesh and blood—was against her. She’d been against her all along. Her fingers traced the fading sketch, the long black thorns and delicate flowers. Why? Why couldn’t her daughter understand that she was doing this for both of them?
That this was the only way?
She closed her eyes, the memories sweeping over her like a wall of black smoke. She should never have followed that glittering green tail deep into the depths of the sea. She should never have left the selkie boundaries when she was fifteen. But she could not bear to spend her days tending her garden and practicing her songs as her sister did. She’d tested the boundaries for years, pushing the limits to see how far she could go.
The first glimpse of those sparkling fins had been impossible to resist. She’d followed the mermaid to a coral castle with soaring spires and turrets that had stretched high into the undulating currents, as far as the eye could see. She’d slipped past the guards, and through a narrow window looking down into the vast ballroom, she’d seen him—the prince.
He’d been surrounded by a circle of his people; they’d been laughing and cheering as they clapped him on the back. His smile had been radiant, brighter than a Midsummer’s moon. His bare chest had gleamed, rippling with muscles, and the strong tail that had propelled him through a crowd that had parted for him to pass had been the color of emeralds dusted in gold.
She’d fallen in love at first sight. She’d known she had to find a way to be with him. She’d believed, in her foolishness, that their love could unite their kingdoms. That their love could break down the borders and restrictions the mermaids had put on them so long ago.
But she had not known then what she knew now. That love made people weak. It made people vulnerable. It made people do things they would never do otherwise.
Moira’s nails scraped over the pages as she tore them from the book. She had risked everything to be with him.
And he had chosen someone else.
She hurled the pages into the ocean, and they ignited, bursting into flames. He’d chosen her sister. The parchment sizzled, forming sparkling balls of fire floating over the surface. Her pathetic, insipient, malleable twin sister!
The flames twisted, twirling into the night until they transformed into a garden of brilliant orange roses. Moira gazed into the moonlit surface—at the reflection of Brigid shedding her seal-skin on a white beach.
“Are you sure he said this was the place?” Brigid asked, shivering as her bare skin met the cold night.
“I’m sure,” Moira urged. “He said he’d be waiting for you just over that hill.”
Moira slid from the rocks, into the dark waters, edging back from the beach. She watched her sister wrap her precious seal-skin around her naked body and start up the path.
Toward the man who was watching from the cliffs.
She heard Brigid’s panicked scream when he grabbed her, snatching her pelt. She watched her sister struggle, her cries muffled as his big hand covered her mouth.
Moira slid under the surface, into the darkness and freedom of the sea. Her sister’s Prince was not waiting for her on the other side of the hill. He was waiting on a beach, several kilometers north along the coast. And he would be getting a different twin.
Moira swept her arm out, the long sleeve of her dress skimming the surface of the sea. She flung the empty leather binding of the book into the circle of roses. The petals shivered, fading to black as the book splashed into the water, sinking like coal.
She had gotten rid of her sister once, and she would get rid of her again. The rocks shook, pebbles skittering into the tide pools as a low rumbling echoed in the distance. The dark sea churned and bubbled as the lava began to flow. The eruption would take care of Nuala, which meant there was only one person now standing between her and the throne. The one person she’d thought was on her side—her daughter.
Glenna twisted her moonstone ring, round and around on her finger. Sam had taken the keys from her over an hour ago when they got the call from Caitlin—the call saying Tara had almost died. She looked up, catching her reflection in the mirror on the back of the visor. Her face was still pale, her eyes wide and haunted. But Tara was alive. She was alive, and that was all that mattered.
Sam cut the engine in the lot of St. James’s Hospital in Dublin. “Are you sure it was Moira?”
Glenna nodded. “I’m sure. My mother knows I’m not on her side now. If she got the book—and I’m sure she did—she knows that I’ve been trying to prove Brigid’s innocence for years. But without the blackthorn, I can’t prove Moira killed him.”
“Then we have to find her,” Sam said, opening the door, “and warn her before Moira figures out where she’s hiding.”
Glenna took a deep breath. “My mother is tracking you, Sam. She’s using you to find Brigid.”
Sam paused, his hand on the door.
“That’s why I’ve been trying to stop you,” she explained. “So you wouldn’t lead Moira straight to her.”
Sam gazed out the window, at the brightly-lit hospital entrance. A muscle in his jaw began to tick. “That’s why I had such a hard time the first couple months,” he said, putting the pieces together. “You were using your powers against me.”
“To protect Brigid,” Glenna explained. “Moira didn’t know that I knew the truth. She thought I was on her side. The only reason I knew was because of my visions.”
Sam looked back at her. “Do you know where Brigid is?”
Glenna shook her head. “I’ve been searching for her for years. But she’s hidden somewhere where Moira can’t see her—somewhere protected.” Glenna breathed in the scent of exhaust blowing in Sam’s open door. “I thought I had more time. But when Nuala came on land in November, she set things in motion—things that couldn’t be undone. Her failure to bring a suitable mate into the sea cost her the throne.”
Sam rested his hands back on the wheel. “So you’re saying that every trade Moira made with Nuala was to clear her path to the throne?”
Glenna nodded as a nurse wheeled an elderly man out to a van idling by the curb. “Even though I helped bring Liam back, Moira thought I was still on her side—that I would help her reclaim the throne.”
“Why would you do that?”
Lights flashed through the parking lot as an ambulance pulled up to the entrance. “Because if my mother cannot release herself from this curse, all her dark powers will pass to me.”
“Glenna—”
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” Glenna looked away. She couldn’t bear to see the look in his eyes. “Brigid is the eldest daughter of the selkie queen. She is the proper ruler. She is the only one who can restore the balance to the seas, protect the islands, and save us from Moira.”
“But—”
“Moira assumed I would do everything in my power to stop you, to save myself. And I let her believe that.” She looked up, at the sky, at the pale white moon rising over the city. “But I have always known the truth. As long as Brigid is hidden, she’s still a risk to my mother.” She looked back at Sam, at the dark shadows playing over the rugged contours of his face. “Moira knows I’ve been against her all along. She’s going to come after us. I’m surprised she hasn’t already.”
“Glenna.” Sam took her hand. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Glenna felt his firm fingers close over hers. Another woman might have welcomed his vow of protection, but Glenna had learned long ago that she was the only one who could save herself. She pulled her h
and free. “You should never have gotten involved in this.”
“But I did,” Sam said, his expression darkening as he stepped out of the car. He kept his eyes on hers as he rounded the hood to the passenger’s side. He opened her door and she stepped out into the night.
“We’re going to find Brigid,” he said, closing the door behind her. “We’re going to break this curse. We’re going to rebuild your home on the island. And when this is all over, I’m going to take you out on a date to a fancy restaurant in Galway.” He took her hand, leading her toward the hospital. “We’re going to sit at a table like a normal couple and you’re going to order the most expensive dish on the menu and wear something red and slinky that I want to rip off you. And when we get home, you’ll let me.”
Glenna let out a strangled laugh. She could feel the warmth of him, the strength of him seeping into her palm where he gripped her hand. “I’m glad you have your priorities straight.”
“You are my only priority, Glenna.”
It was dark, but street lamps lit their way to the building. And when she glanced up at him and caught the intensity in his eyes, she felt a strange pulsing, like hesitant wings of hope beating inside her heart. She clamped down on them. Love is weakness. Love is vulnerability. The only strength you have is yourself. “What you should be worried about is your own life, and those damn roses.”
“I am not afraid of death, Glenna.” He paused under a street lamp, pulling her into him. He cupped her face in his hands. “I have never been afraid of death. Because I have never had anything to live for until I met you.”
KELSEY LOOKED OUT her window, at the stars twinkling in the night sky. The sun had set over an hour ago, but Uncle Liam and Caitlin were still here. She could hear their hushed voices and her dad clanging around in the kitchen. It sounded like they were staying for dinner.
She glanced at Owen, who was sitting on her floor, throwing black beach stones into a bucket of water at the foot of her bed. He hadn’t been himself all night. She’d tried to get him to play a board game, but he just wanted to sulk in the corner.
Plunk. Another stone hit the water. It sank, making a hollow sound as it hit the bottom of the metal bucket. “I won’t be able to lift it if you keep adding stones to the bottom,” Kelsey muttered.
“You won’t be able to lift it anyway,” Owen retorted. But he scooted over to the bucket and scooped out two handfuls of stones, dropping them onto her woven rug to dry. He sat back, tossing another one in. Plunk.
Kelsey looked back at the window. She’d propped it open with her two tallest books. She wasn’t taking any chances. And she was tired of Owen making fun of her fire precautions. Her mother had almost died in that cottage today.
Rolling out of the rocking chair to her feet, she marched across the room and dug the rest of the stones out of the bucket. “Enough,” she said, standing between Owen and the bucket. “I might need this later.”
“Whatever,” he said, turning his back to her and hunching his shoulders.
Kelsey crossed her arms over her chest. “Why won’t you tell me where you snuck off to earlier, when we were down at the docks?”
Owen dug at the rug with the stone. “Because it’s none of your business.”
Kelsey narrowed her eyes. Owen’s black hair looked almost blue against the lavender of her walls and his face seemed paler in the lamplight. “Is this about Ronan?”
“No,” Owen snapped, his blue eyes sparking as they met hers. “Why does everyone think this has to do with Ronan?”
“Because he’s been picking on you for weeks,” Kelsey retorted.
“I don’t care about Ronan,” Owen muttered.
“Then, what is the matter?” Kelsey pressed. “Why won’t you tell me?”
Owen curled his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine,” she snapped, pulling her Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale book from the shelf—the same hardback collection Uncle Liam had given both Owen and her for Christmas—and crawled onto her bed. She sank back into the pillows, scowling. If he didn’t want to talk to her, then she’d sit here and read in silence until dinner. That was fine with her.
She read a few pages then glanced up and saw he was watching her. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, looking away.
She rolled her eyes and went back to reading. But she looked up after a few sentences and saw that he was watching her again. “What?”
He turned the beach stone around in his fingers slowly. “What are you reading?”
“None of your business.”
Owen set the stone down. “Kelsey—”
“What?” Kelsey glared at him. “You won’t tell me why you’re upset. I’m not telling you what I’m reading.”
Owen stood, shuffling over to the bed and peering over her shoulder. The next thing she knew, he was yanking the book from her hands and tearing out the pages.
“Hey!” She scrambled off the bed, grabbing for them. “Stop! What are you doing?”
He turned his back to her, blocking her reach. He shredded the pages into little bits and threw them in the trash. Then he turned, shoving the book back at her.
Kelsey stared at him, wide-eyed, as the door swung open and her dad popped his head in. “Is everything okay in here?”
“Everything’s fine,” Owen muttered, walking over to the window.
“Kelsey?” Dominic asked, frowning when he saw her expression.
Kelsey looked over at Owen, then back at her dad. “I’m fine,” she said quietly, setting the book down on her bed.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said.
“Alright,” he said slowly. “Dinner’s in ten minutes.”
As soon as her dad closed the door—leaving it open a crack this time—she turned back to Owen. “What is your problem?”
“Why are you reading that story?”
“I’m trying to help Sam find our grandmother,” she huffed. “There has to be a reason why Brigid re-shelved the white selkie book with the mermaid books. There might be a clue in there.”
“I think you should stay out of it.”
Kelsey gaped at him. “Why?”
“Because someone’s going to get hurt.”
Kelsey pressed her palm to the door, shutting it quietly until she heard the latch click. “Owen, what happened to you today?”
Owen looked out at the ocean, at the reflection of the pale moonlight glistening on the surface. “I saw her.”
“Who?”
“Moira.”
“Moira?” Kelsey’s hands began to tremble. “Where?”
“On the rocks, on the way to Brennan’s house. Where I usually go at sunset to see my”—he took a deep breath, lowering his voice—“to see Nuala.”
Kelsey crossed the room slowly until she was standing beside him. He was two years older than her and at least four inches taller so she had to tilt her head to look up at him. “How long have you been seeing Nuala?”
“Since I started my reading lessons with Brennan. I saw her on my walk home once. She was in the water, but she was looking right at me. I had to go down to her.”
“But—”
“My mum and dad don’t know.” His voice hardened. “And you can’t tell them.”
“I-I won’t,” Kelsey stammered.
“I don’t want them to think—”
“I know.” She took Owen’s arm, pulling him back to the bed. He sank to the mattress and she sat beside him. “Tell me.”
“I went down to see her last night,” Owen whispered. “On my way back from Brennan’s. But she wasn’t there. That’s why I snuck down to the rocks today—to see if maybe she’d come late or somehow left me a message. But Moira was there instead.” His fingers curled into Kelsey’s pink bedspread. “She said I wasn’t ever going to see Nuala again.”
“We need to tell my mum and dad.”
“No.” Owen shook his head. “She said
if I ever read that story again—The Little Mermaid—she would do to my mum what she did to Nuala. That’s why Glenna’s house caught fire today. She was trying to warn me.”
Kelsey thought of the fire, the billowing smoke and the sight of her mum lying helpless on the ground. “What did she do to Nuala?”
“I don’t know,” Owen whispered.
“Did she say why she doesn’t she want you reading the story?”
Owen shook his head.
“There must be a reason.” Kelsey rose and went to the trash, digging out the shredded pieces of paper.
Owen shot to his feet. “What are you doing?”
Kelsey looked up. “She didn’t say I couldn’t read it.”
“No,” Owen said quickly. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”
Kelsey laid the papers out on the floor, piecing them together. “But there must be a clue in here if she doesn’t want you to read it.”
“No!” Owen grabbed the papers and crumpled them into a ball. “We need to stop looking for Brigid.”
“What?” Kelsey stared at him. “We can’t. She’s family.”
“But—”
“Maybe Moira was lying about Nuala,” Kelsey cut in. “Maybe she was trying to scare you.”
Owen shook his head. “She did something to her. Something awful.” He let the crumpled papers drop to the floor, hanging his head. “If I hadn’t read her that story…”
“What story?”
“The Little Mermaid,” Owen whispered. “I used to…read it to her. It was the only one she ever wanted to hear.”
“I thought Nuala hated that story? She kept trying to take it away from you before.”
“She did. When I thought she was the evil sea witch. But now…” He shook his head. “I think Nuala was trying to tell me something.” He looked down at the scattered bits of paper. “There were two passages… She used to make a lot of noise and splash around when I read them.”
“What are they?”
“There’s a word in both of them…a word I don’t know.” He looked up at her. “Do you know what a convent is?”
“I think it’s a place where nuns live.”
